Galerie : La Dixième Muse
 

Shana
by June



Translated by Danny

 
 

I gently close the padded door and make myself as comfortable as possible on a large sofa. Facing me, a wall is inset with a gigantic two-way mirror. Thanks to it, I will be the silent spectator of a ballet in which you are simultaneously director, choreographer, and dancer. I watch you. You are standing, leaning on the wall opposite the mirror. You are perspiring. You know I am there, seated in the dark, aware of all the changes of expression that pass in waves over your pretty face. From time to time, your eyes intersect my own. Youíre not able to see me, that I know well. I share your desire and your fear. For the space of a second, I want to stop everything. But I know as well as you that it is already too late. And then, wasnít this your idea?

I watch you look around the room in which you are entrapped. In a corner, a table of polished wood. Some dildos of various sizes have been placed there. You have carefully selected them, taking into account their peculiar characteristics, knowing the subtle mix of pleasure and pain that each of these delicious objects are able to generate if used in the appropriate manner. You have often used them on me, and for our greatest pleasure, too.
 


 
Other objects decorate the table. You brush your fingers against each of them. Some lengths of rope. A ball gag. Some scarves. A tube of K/Y jelly. On the floor, a mattress covered with a sheet of black silk. The presence of this very delicate sheet in this cell made of bare concrete creates a breathtaking contrast. I can only dare to imagine in what state it will be when everything is finished.

The predator has become the prey, the mistress has become the slave. I will only have the right to observe, and the spectacle that readies itself twists my stomach with vague gnawings of concern, mixed with desire. Today, after two years of total submission to thousands of demands that your inventive mind never ceases to create, I will see you in a role completely unknown to meæthat of victim. Itís my anniversary gift, you said. At the outset, the idea hardly gave me pleasure. I donít like seeing myself in this way adopting a role to which I take so much pleasure and to which you subject me during such a long time, with so much talent.

Besides, in our story, who is subjugating whom? For sure, you have made me explore the thousand and one subtleties of pleasure that an experimental mistress might offer her slave. With youæthanks to youæI have traveled the tricky roads of pain and humiliation, up to crossing the boundaries that, naïve and young as I was, I had thought I was incapable of surmounting. But were you not my prisoner too? By my complete obedience, didnít I help you attain the most profound strata of your fantasies? Arenít you still dependent on my total submission? Your anger is terrible, your punishments fearsome, your fantasies dark and violent. But you tremble at the idea that I could, in a split second, choose to leave you.

 There, in an adjoining room, three men are waiting. You have chosen them as one chooses stallions in a stud farm. Young, large and lean, with mouths of happy hooligans, just as you preferred them. You have sized them up, estimated their endurance and their aptitude to carry through to the end of their strange mission. Oh, it took only a few words to convince them. Besides, it wasnít necessary to do much persuading: this type of man is so easy to trap! I imagine them, talking among themselves about the great opportunity that awaits them, drooling in advance at the idea of all the things that they will be able to inflict on this young woman who, I told them, is ready to satisfy their least desires. One restriction only: they must not hit her. Otherwise, they have the freedom to make you submit to their smallest wish, without limit.

One moment, you even insisted that Fred, our German shepherd that you so cleverly trained to mount me, be a member of the party. I was opposed to it. I have a very jealous temperament, and there are things that I donít share with anyone.

I check one last time for the presence of my revolver in my purse. One never knows with these idiots. I am not reassured, you know. I know this type of person, and I carry on my person the marks that others, so like them, have thought to bequeath to me. Souvenirs of a night of rape along the wharfÖ. Yes, I know them. I understand their slimy laughter, their ominous demeanor of a thousand perversions that cross their minds. But I know equally well that, imagining themselves to be the masters, they will be no more than the living tools of our desire.

In a few minutes, they will enter. They will tear off your blouse and leather skirt without further ado. You will let them do this to you, for sure. You will drop to your knees and quickly engulf in your pretty mouth the first male organ that presents itself. You will offer your ass, your pussy, to the enormous thrusts of these young brutes. When they have finished, they will work you unmercifully, using all the tools that we have placed so graciously at their disposal, and you will ask for more, I know it. Then they will resume assailing you, again and again, from all sides, imagining without end new ways to humiliate you, to humble you, believing finally that they have brought you to their level. And you will enjoy it, for you will be unaware of the fact that it is you who kiss them, and I will kiss them through you.

When all is finished, when they will finally have departed, I will go into the room. You will be there, stretched out on the mattress, tired, out of breath, your body covered with semen, sweat, and urine. I will lift you gently and I will take you home. I will make you sink down into a very hot bath, pour the most special bath salts in, so that your bruised body finds rest and comfort.  I will dry you then, and apply to your body fragrant balms to erase the bruises left by the night. Finally, when all the marks left by those men have disappeared, I will gently comb your hair, perfume you, and lay you down.

     You suddenly turn your head in the direction of the door. It gently opens.

     I have decided to save the silken sheet: it will be our relic.